On the Island
Camp
6:00 a.m.
Secret Beach
Secret Beach
Secret Beach
CHAPTER 41
REMEMBRANCE DAY
Mary
The bell rang once again to call them to the ceremony. Mary pressed down invisible wrinkles in her unfamiliar dress and joined the somber crowd walking to the Drama Tent. She half listened to the gurgle of French and English voices surrounding her, the background noise of camp. She greeted the people she knew and received a few hugs. Sandra Peoples from her riding group and Simon Vauclair, the guy who’d broken Margaux’s heart so many years ago. Mostly, everyone looked the same, only washed out around the edges. But there were also those she simply didn’t recognize until they said their name. What happened in a life that made the difference between being recognizable or a stranger at forty to your childhood companions?
They arrived at the Drama Tent, a perfect place for her parents’ memorial. There was always drama when the MacAllisters were around.
The tent sat in a circle of pines. It was the place at Macaw with which Mary felt the least familiar. She’d never taken drama and had avoided attending the staff productions that took place there. Sometimes she forgot it even existed.
She found a place in the front row next to Swift. She didn’t want to sit up where everyone could see her, but it was expected. The front was for family, for show. She knew about shows, had ridden in them all her life, so she knew how to arrange her face and to smile at the right moments. She could do this. She could.
They’d decided weeks ago, in a series of emails she’d barely read, that Sean would lead the service. It ought to have been Ryan’s job, but when Sean offered, Ryan had simply said he thought it was a great idea. That was before anyone knew about the will and Sean’s place in it. Ryan might not let himself be so easily replaced today if that were public knowledge.
Or who knows? Ryan wasn’t big on duty, obligations. Not the Ryan Mary knew. Was he so different now that he had a family? She should’ve taken the time to find out, but she hadn’t. He was sitting at the other end of the row in the middle of his daughters. He’d been discharged from the hospital in time to make it to the ceremony, and they’d crossed each other in the house. Mary had been genuinely happy to see Kerry and the girls; it had been too long. She should make more of an effort there. At least she wasn’t any different from her sisters in this regard; they all neglected their nieces equally.
Ryan turned his head, and they exchanged a glance. They held it for a moment, then looked away. Mary wished she knew what he was thinking. Was he feeling guilty that he wasn’t the one nervously clearing his throat and smoothing out a piece of paper? Or was that relief she saw? There was something to putting down your burdens, Mary knew. Giving up the struggle of it. She’d been thinking about that, off and on, since before her parents died, and now she was right in the middle of it. But could she do it? Could she finally put the past behind her?
Sean cleared his throat, but no one heard him above the din. He raised his hand. One by one, like her family had done earlier in the weekend, everyone stopped talking and raised their own hands in response. A silent salute, a moment of attention. Mary felt a lump form in her throat. There were two easels set up on either side of the podium, each holding a blown-up photo of her parents. Them on their wedding day in flowing hippie clothes, and then together in front of the Camp Macaw sign in what must’ve been the first year they ran the place. Her mother was heavily pregnant, and her father’s hand sat proudly on her belly. Mary wished she’d known this version of her parents. What would they think if they were here, if they knew everything that had happened? Would they approve? Was this what her father had wanted?
Sean let the silence hang in the air as the hands slowly fell.
“Hi, everyone,” he said into the microphone. His voice sounded deep and sonorous, like a radio announcer’s.
“Hi, Sean!” the crowd said back.
Mary smiled. These people were so predictable. “Hi, Sean,” was a thing that started so many years ago she couldn’t place it. It was a joke, making fun of him but also including him in the joke. It was how campers greeted one another everywhere—an elongated Hiiii, Seee-aaan. She was never sure what Sean thought of it, but he was smiling now, and he’d done it on purpose. It was a good beginning.
“It’s great to see so many of you today. I know the MacAllisters would be happy to have all the members of their extended family here for this. Camp Macaw is a special place.”
“Macaw!” someone yelled, and then the echo of mac-caw, caw, caw went around the tent, a call-and-response that flooded Mary’s brain with memories. Ryan showing her how to do it properly when she was four. When she taught it to the twins. How she and Margaux used to say it as they ran after each other in the barn.
Sean continued when the calls fell away. “I’ve been lucky enough to spend a lot of my life here. Most of you know that the MacAllisters took me in after my mother died. They brought me into their family, gave me a home and later a job and so many opportunities I never would’ve had if I hadn’t met them.”
Liddie coughed loudly twice. Sean colored in response and looked down at his paper.
“That’s the easy version of my story. But I wanted to take a moment to tell you what it was like for me so you can understand. My mother had a difficult life. We moved a lot, never staying in one place long enough to make friends or put down roots. I never met my grandparents, never knew who my father was. My mother was the only constant, and while she did her best, it wasn’t any way for a kid to live.
“The MacAllisters changed all that after she died. They found me a local foster family, who was okay with housing me during the school year and giving me up for the summers so I could spend them here. For the first time, I had a place that would always be there for me.
“The MacAllisters didn’t have much money, and they already had five children, but they helped me financially where they could. And when I asked to come work here full time, they said yes.
“I’m not good at talking about my feelings. But I can say that because they did that for me, I was able to do things I never would’ve been able to. And that’s how I like to think about this place. It’s a place where anything is possible. Whoever you are, you can be your best self here. That was their gift, not just to me but to all of you.”
He paused and looked around. Mary could hear someone sniffling behind her, and she felt on the verge of tears. She was looking at Sean in a way she never had. What must it have been like for him? His mother had died when he was eight, right before she was born, so he was like Margaux or Ryan—something that was always there, something that would never change.
“Mr. MacAllister used to tell me that the true magic of camp was that you could let your imagination go. You could dream and become what you want. What you are outside of here, it doesn’t matter. Being here is what’s important.
“If you remember one thing from what I say today, one thing about this place, it’s that we learned and grew and tested and failed and succeeded and loved and moved on, touched by what we experienced here in ways we can’t even begin to explain. We have been shaped by it, and that shape is permanent.
“Camp Macaw has always been my safe place, and I know it’s yours. We don’t know what the future holds for us yet, but whatever happens, this place will go on in our hearts and in our memories.”
He turned to the photograph of Mary’s parents. “Thank you,” he said simply.
He stopped speaking. The applause started at the back and rolled through the tent like thunder. Mary was swept up in it. All of them, clapping and crying, and Sean looking down with a beatific look on his face, a man at peace.
A man who’d set down
his burdens.
CHAPTER 42
ANOTHER MARK ON THE BOARD
Kate
Kate felt as if she’d lost track of things during the service. Sitting in the Drama Tent, listening to Sean speak, she felt caught in a mobile of her life. The images bobbed up and down in front of her: this production of a silly TV spoof they used to do when she was small, the Sunday nondenominational services her father led (“inspired by nature and Shakespeare,” he called them), she and Liddie staging their own made-up plays.
She knew she should be thinking of her parents. When was the last time she’d spoken to them before they died? She couldn’t remember. She’d spent an entire day trying to after Margaux had called with the news, but each time she pulled out a memory, it felt false. She’d seen them since they’d betrayed her over camp; she was certain she had. But when?
Then the service was over, and her hand was in Margaux’s—she didn’t even remember Margaux sitting next to her—and Margaux was whispering in her ear that they needed to talk privately, STAT.
“But it’s lunch. Everyone will notice if we aren’t there.”
Margaux bit her bottom lip, working away at a small piece of loose skin. “They’ll be too busy reminiscing.”
“But we ought to be there, participating in—”
“Participating in what? Acting like everything is fine when you know what we have to decide today?”
Kate felt puzzled, which must’ve shown on her face, because Margaux let out an exasperated sigh.
“The vote? About Ryan? Did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget. I know what today is.”
But that wasn’t entirely true. Kate had sort of forgotten in the turmoil of, well, today. This morning with Amy. This whole weekend was something she’d rather forget. Based on past experience, she would.
“So why are you resisting my request, then?”
“I’m not. Where should we go?”
They were surrounded by ex-campers and their families. A sea of navy and black, which no little kid should have to wear. Everyone else was laughing now, smiling. It was like watching people behind glass.
“We should go to the house,” Margaux said.
“Go to the house for what?” Liddie asked, materializing out of nowhere as only Liddie could do.
• • •
In the end, they all ended up at the house.
Ryan and Kerry and their girls were already there when Kate, Margaux, Liddie, and Owen arrived, because Sunday lunch wasn’t gluten free and nut free and whatever other food-free things their kids needed. Mary had been jostled in the crowd leaving the ceremony and had fallen and scraped her knee. Swift had helped her back to the house, fussing over her in a way no one ever did. When Sean saw them all walking to the house, he joined in naturally.
Based on the vote on Friday, there was a good chance they were going to own this place with Sean. She hadn’t thought about that till now, that the consequence of voting against Ryan would be that they’d end up with Sean. It was obvious, but even so, it was hard to absorb. It was like pitting the devil you know against the angel you didn’t. Only, neither of those was right—Ryan wasn’t the devil, and Sean wasn’t an angel.
They gathered as they had two days before in the living room. Was it only two days? She thought of all that had happened since then, the fractured sleep, the visit to the hospital, the final break with Amy. It seemed like enough to fill a year, not a weekend.
Kerry was in the kitchen with the girls, preparing their food, but except for that amendment and the fact that Owen was there, sitting on the other side of Liddie, they were all seated in the same places. Swift was standing near the windows, waiting for them to silence.
“Are you going to tell us, Margaux?” Liddie asked. “Why did you want to talk?”
“I didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted to talk to Kate.”
Ouch, Kate thought, feeling Liddie flinch next to her.
“Come on, I think we’re past all that now, aren’t we?” Ryan said. He looked surprisingly calm given everything. Maybe he didn’t care anymore. Kate could understand that. Holding on to things—this place, Amy—hadn’t gotten her anything she wanted in life. Perhaps letting go was a better approach.
Margaux twisted back and forth in her seat. Kate wondered what had happened to Mark.
“What is it, Margaux?” Liddie said. “Just tell us.”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“Whose, then?”
“It’s mine,” Sean said. “She wants to tell you about me. But it’s better if I do it.”
“You don’t have to,” Margaux said.
“No, I do.” Sean loosened the tie he was wearing. He was standing behind the chair Ryan was sitting in, and something about the way their shoulders rolled forward, the tilt of their heads, reminded her of something.
Then the truth clicked into place, as clear as day. And before Kate could help herself, she blurted, “He’s our brother.”
CHAPTER 43
RUMINATION
Liddie
Liddie was thinking those very words when Kate said them.
Owen had his arm around the back of the sofa, touching her shoulders, and that made it better, but still. She’d been feeling left out. Seeing Margaux whispering into Kate’s ear like that, like a conspiracy. Having to ask to be included. Knowing that they’d agreed reluctantly to letting her in on the secret.
She was sitting in the middle of her family, but she was on the outside.
Was this how Mary felt?
“Wait, what?” Ryan had stood up so quickly that he’d knocked over the wing chair. He wheeled on Sean, looking like he wanted to punch him.
“Don’t hit him!” Margaux said.
“I wasn’t going to hit him.”
“You might want to lower your fist, then.”
He slowly lowered his hand. “What’s going on?” he asked Kate, but it was Liddie who answered.
“I found his birth certificate in Dad’s things.”
“And it said Dad was his father?”
“No, the father was blank, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
She was looking back and forth between Sean and Ryan. How had she never noticed the resemblance between them before? They were the same height and build. Neither of them looked like her father, but then again, none of the MacAllisters did. The girls all took after their mother—in looks, anyway—but Ryan looked like their grandfather, Macaw’s original founder, a man they’d never met. There were pictures of him on the mantelpiece though, taken when he was around forty-five. Liddie used to spend hours looking at those pictures when she was a kid, wondering what her life might’ve been like if he hadn’t died.
“Is it true?” Margaux asked Sean. “Are you our brother?”
“I . . . I don’t know. My mother never told me.”
“And Dad, did he say anything?”
Sean waved a hand in front of his eyes. “He never said it. He implied it sometimes. I think.”
“You’ve always wanted to be one of us.”
“Ryan!”
“What, Margaux? It’s true.”
Liddie wasn’t so sure about that though. Sean didn’t want to be Margaux’s brother, that was for sure. Thank God she’d never returned his feelings. Would her father have said something if she had? She shuddered.
Owen was looking at her quizzically. She shook her head, stood, and walked to the mantel. She picked up a picture of her grandparents, standing in front of the Camp Macaw sign, like the one of her own parents taken a few years later. Her whole family was one big feedback loop.
“He looks like Grandpa,” Liddie said.
She passed the picture to Kate, who looked from it to Sean and back again. “He does.”
“How did you guess, Kate?” Margaux asked. “Did yo
u know about the birth certificate?”
“No, Liddie didn’t tell me. I just . . . realized it all at once.”
“Figures,” Mary said, her voice shaking. “That she’d keep it from you.”
“Yeah,” Liddie said. “It does. Kate’s terrible at keeping secrets.”
“Not so terrible,” Margaux said, giving Kate a look.
Liddie felt that queasy feeling again, like she was at sea in her own life. Owen touched her elbow. “You okay, babe?”
“I’ll be all right.”
They stood there, the photograph passing from person to person.
“Swift’s been awfully silent, haven’t you, Swift?” Ryan said.
“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” Swift replied, his voice rising.
“You know, don’t you? Is Sean our brother?”
“Half brother,” Mary said through gritted teeth.
“Yes, thank you, Mary, for that precision,” Margaux said. “Very helpful.”
Mary turned her back on them, looking out the window at the lake.
“So is he?” Ryan insisted.
Swift gave a nervous cough. “That would be protected by attorney-client privilege.”
“Excuse me?” Sean said. “I’m not allowed to know who my own father is?”
“I’m sorry, Sean, but if Mr. MacAllister told me something in confidence, I’m bound to keep it.”
“But he’s dead.”
“He was the only one who could waive the privilege, and that right died with him.”
Sean’s face grew redder as Swift spoke, making him look more like Ryan than ever. That identical seething look. Liddie was convinced now. Come what may, he was family.
“It makes sense though, doesn’t it?” Margaux said.
“What,” Ryan replied, “his legal mumbo jumbo?”
“No, that Sean’s our brother. It explains why Dad took him in, his role in the will, all of it.”
“Not all of it,” Kate said. “I mean, if he’s our brother, half brother, whatever, then he should inherit equally with us.”
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